


Thanksgiving in the Bunker

by wefellasangels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Team Free Will, Thanksgiving, thanksgiving in the bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:59:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4184214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wefellasangels/pseuds/wefellasangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Please refer to title ^.^</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanksgiving in the Bunker

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by posts made by @thisfeliciaday and @xialu-jess on tumblr

“What the hell is this?”

“Mornin’ to you too, Sammy.”

Sam stumbles sleepily into the War Room, staring wide-eyed as Dean places a stack of plates at one end of a table that is covered end-to-end in food.

“Wow, you look terrible,” Dean comments cheerily, watching his brother put the pieces together in his semi-awake mind. Pulling a chair out, he sits down. “Did you even sleep last night?”

“I…uh…. Dean, is this-?” 

“Um, what’s going on here?” Castiel appears by Sam’s side, eyes narrowed as he takes in the sight on the table. “That is…quite a lot of food.”

“Dean, did you make all this?” Sam asks, walking closer to the table to get a better look. Salads, soups, pies, mashed and baked potatoes, ham, turkey, pudding, beans, pastas…and some other dishes Sam couldn’t recognize at the moment filled the table.

“Yeah, I did,” Dean answers proudly. “Took me all morning, too.”  

Sam raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. “Holy crap, dude.”

“I don’t understand,” Castiel says, looking between the brothers. “What’s happening?”

Sam gives a small laugh and takes his eyes off the food to look at the angel. “It’s Thanksgiving, Cas.”

Castiel glances back to the table, his eyes landing on the turkey, and nods his head. “Yes, I remember now…and eating obscene quantities of food is traditional. Why?”

“Everybody loves food, Cas,” Dean replies, standing up. As he begins to leave the War Room, Castiel speaks again.

“No, I meant why are we celebrating Thanksgiving?”

Dean stops in his tracks and turns to face Castiel. From where he stands next to the table, Sam shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his brow furrowed as he waits for his brother’s response.

Dean runs a hand over his jaw. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

Castiel opens his mouth to respond, but Sam speaks first.

“Uh, yeah actually, it does. I mean, we’re not exactly a Hallmark card family, here, Dean. So if you wanna have Thanksgiving, that’s great – I mean we’ll do Thanksgiving…stuff, or whatever. But I mean…there’s gotta be a reason why. Last time we did holidays, you wanted Christmas – and you were going to Hell, man, so…”

Nodding his head in understanding, Dean walks a few steps forward toward Sam and Castiel. “Look. We’ve been dealing with a ton of crap lately: the whole…Metadouche, Abbadon, demon…thing. And now that things are back to normal, I thought it’d be nice to, you know, do something…. _nice_ for a change.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam says, suppressing his skepticism. “If that’s what this is about, then fine. I’m on board.”

“Okay, awesome.”                                                                 

Castiel looks back and forth between the Winchesters. “So…we’re _doing_ Thanksgiving, then?”

…

Sam laughs and throws a used napkin at Dean.

“Bull!”

“I swear! It literally took me a month to plan this all out!” Dean insists.

“I find that highly unlikely,” Castiel mutters.

The three of them sit at one end of the table, Sam and Dean with full plates and mouths. Castiel watches, amused, as the brothers stand up from time to time and reach across the table top to add more items of food to their plates, their sleeves accidentally dipping into sauces as they sit back down.

Dean takes a bite of pie and continues talking. “Well, I wanted to make it a surprise, but we’re always hanging around together – it took forever to go out and buy everything. And then _hide_ it from you two.”

“Ah…so that’s where you’ve been going at seven o’clock in the freakin’ morning,” Sam says, realization dawning on him. “Grocery shopping.”

Dean takes a sip of beer and then nods. “Yup. It sucked, but finally getting to use that damn kitchen was worth it. ”

“Yeah, I bet,” Sam responds teasingly as he pours dressing over his salad.

“Sam and I were being to wonder if you had– “

“Whether,” Sam cuts Castiel off quickly, giving him a meaningful look. “Whether you were sneaking out at night to meet some girl…then getting home late, or something.” Sam smiles at his brother. “Guess we were wrong, huh, Cas?”

“Uh…yes? It seems so.”

Dean gives Sam a strange look, but bites back his accusations, saving them for another day. “Alright then….time for turkey, then?”

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Definitely.”

The three of them stand up and push their chairs back. Walking to the other end of the table, they stand near the turkey, Sam pulling his phone from his pocket to film the moment.

“ _Dude_ …really?” Dean asks, glaring at the phone.

“Hey – you’re the one who wanted to do Thanksgiving, alright? I’m just ‘getting in the spirit’.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean claps his hands together once. “Alright, let’s slice this baby!”

Sam hits ‘record’ on his phone and announces: “Okay, we’re rolling.”

“Awesome, now we can…” Dean’s eyes sweep over the table before he sighs, annoyed. “Crap. Forgot the knife; I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, you can use this,” Castiel says. He pulls out his angel blade and hands it to Dean.

“Is that thing clean?” Sam inquires as he continues filming, Dean taking the blade cautiously.

“Yes, of course.”

“But,” Dean presses. “Don’t you use to…you know, kill-“

“ _Dean_.”

“Okay! Just making sure…” he relents. Weapon in hand, Dean begins cutting the turkey with the angel blade.

As Dean cuts, he glances over to his brother filming and gives a short laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Castiel asks.

Dean smiles a little. “This is it…”

“Team Free Will?” Sam supplies with a laugh, thinking back to a few years ago.

“Yup. One ex-demon, one human with six bucks to his name, and Mr. Fading Grace over there. All sitting ‘round the Thanksgiving table.”

“Our lives are weird, man.”

“Damn straight.”

Dean finishes slicing the turkey, giving the angel blade a final twirl before handing it back to Castiel, and Sam continues recording until everyone is served a portion. As they take their seats and begin eating, Castiel reflects back on the last few moments.

“Team Free Will,” he repeats with a smile, liking the moniker. “I don’t know. Perhaps we’re a bit more…‘Hallmark card’ than we think.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
